I was masturbating when I had no idea what that was, what the word meant, or even that there was a word for it. All I knew was that I told myself “stories” at night before I fell asleep, at a very early age, maybe around six or seven years old, and that those “stories” did something to me that felt good. A boy down the street had shown me a way to masturbate without touching myself. Little did I realize that’s what he was showing me, or that it shouldn’t have worked for me since I didn’t have the same equipment that he did. He put a pillow on the floor and lay on top of it, with it under his hips. I didn’t use a pillow when I did it on my own, but somehow found the internal muscles even at that age to bring myself to orgasm. Again, I had no idea I was doing that, it just felt really good. The “stories” I told myself were about spanking, always about spanking, and the earliest ones were about other kids getting spanked, never me. I didn’t feature in my own “stories” until I was around ten years old or so. I never told anybody, mostly because we didn’t talk about sex when I was a kid. I also thought that what turned me on, and what had turned me on since around the age of three or four years old, might be “not right”, might be something that other people would say was wrong, or sick, so I kept it all to myself. Nobody had ever told me that masturbation was wrong, because that subject was never brought up, so I didn’t feel any shame about the actual act, just about what I thought about while doing it.

Jump ahead to the age of eighteen, and I found a copy of My Secret Garden. Most of the fantasies in the book did nothing for me, though there was a small spanking section near the back, in the “these aren’t REALLY normal, but a few women do get turned on by them” section (ARGH!). What the book did though, was show me that I had been masturbating for most of my life already, I just wasn’t doing it the way anybody else was doing it. I still was never touching myself, mostly because I didn’t understand the physical nature of the whole thing. All of my orgasms were still exclusively internal. But that book showed me a whole new world. I touched myself, having never even known what was down there before, and wow, talk about an eye opener! I gave up the old “no touching” policy I’d had, and used my hand from then on. It was amazing. I finally understood what I was doing, and why, and now I had actual fantasies, still always about spanking. What didn’t change was that my fantasies never involved sex. Especially at that age I was still highly repressed and hadn’t had sex, so my fantasies reflected that. It’s something I’ve never actually outgrown though. Even during sex my fantasies don’t involve sex. I have a punishment fetish, and that’s what gets me off.

I’ve used toys, though they were a late addition, after my divorce, but my favorite is still my middle finger. It’s always there, it doesn’t run out of batteries, and it’s quiet. The times I have used a vibrator, the noise is distracting. I’m too focused on having to move it around. It works, but it takes much longer, so I tend not to use them much.

About ten years ago, after being reminded of my old method of internal orgasms, I tried to do it again. It had been over two decades since I’d even tried it, and it did work, but I was trying to use muscles that were so far out of use that I thought I was close to busting a blood vessel in my brain by the time I orgasmed, so that was a one time thing.

These days real life sometimes gets in the way, or I’m too tired, and then I realize it’s been a month or more since I’ve managed to masturbate. At those times it takes about a minute, maybe two, to orgasm, because ANY of my old standby fantasies will work. Other times I get into a groove when I masturbate all the time, and then it takes longer, or my usual fantasies don’t work, so I have to come up with something totally new to get where I need to be. Even then, it’s still worth it.

I’ve managed to get a bunch of new posts on here because of Sinful Sunday. It allowed me to post things that had nothing to do with words, because I hadn’t been able to write anything in so long. The pictures told my story while I wasn’t able to with my words. It also helped because I did NaNoWriMo last month (National Novel Writing Month for the uninitiated), as I do most years, so all my words go to that anyway. This year’s NaNo changed things though. I found my kink again. The thing that gets me going. The use of words, hot buttons, to make me hot and wet and wanting again for the first time in so long. Things got so bad that I had all but lost my ability to fantasize to orgasm. None of the fantasies I tried did anything for me anymore. Then I started writing my book in November. It’s my story. How I found the newsgroup way back, and my introduction to actually playing in the scene, and then to my Top/Bottom relationship with G. Replaying the scenes and the mindset involved and all the other things, got my brain running again in the kinky vein. I found myself getting squirmy again for the first time in so long. I found myself writing things that might push other people’s buttons, and were obviously pushing all of mine. I started feeling it all coming back, and fantasizing started working again. Yes, they were old fantasies, from back when G. and I started talking and playing, but they spark something in me that the fantasies I had been using for months couldn’t do. I had been grieving what I had been feeling was my kinky life, because of massive stresses at home, my inability to have any time to myself, and the loss of viable fantasies. I haven’t seen G. since October of last year. Neither of us has the money to travel, and I have other barriers right now that make it impossible for me to go see him. Every month had pushed me farther and farther away from my kinky self, the person I need to be to be happy and settled. It felt so far away for so long, and I thought I couldn’t get back to it. My world had narrowed to a pathetic little bubble, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was stagnating.

Then I remembered that I had to come up with an idea for NaNo. I don’t work at my full time job anymore, and every year that I did it when I did, my boss always wanted to read what I wrote, so I stuck with sci-fi. It was safe. This year I decided to be brave. I wanted to write erotica. I wanted to write kink. I wanted to write a full blown spanking story. The problem was, I couldn’t come up with a fantasy to write. A rich, fully realized world that could fill up a novel, full of spankings and sex and whatever else I wanted. I was slightly panicked as it got closer and closer to November. I just couldn’t come up with anything. Then I wondered. Did it have to be a fantasy? Couldn’t it be reality, wrapped up in fiction to protect the totally kinky? I didn’t want to start too far back, to include all the desperation I had felt as a kid, teenager, and adult, pre-internet. I didn’t know exactly where to start, so I just did. I started just after my divorce, when I got online the first time, to find that I wasn’t some sick, twisted person who should hide who they were. I built up from there, and as I got into the first times I played, then when I started talking to G., then playing with him, and that was when I started feeling things again. What I had thought was lost was just buried. Yes, so deep that I had forgotten where I had put it, but I found it again, and that old zing came back. The old thrill at the old hot button words and phrases. The first time G. told me not to be a bad girl. All the times when he said I disobeyed or misbehaved. I had forgotten how much those words worked on me. But it came back as I wrote. I wrote over 50,000 words, meaning I won again, but I didn’t just win NaNoWriMo. I won my kink back. I won the part of myself that is so integral to who I am and who I need to be, to be a whole person. The part I need to be happy.

I wrote this story many moons ago, probably something like fourteen or fifteen years ago. I was still a fledgling kink writer at that point, and still exploring the outer reaches of my likes and dislikes.

—————————-

A Fantasy

I hear you put the key in the hotel room door, and I scramble to get into position, kneeling, eyes downcast. This is required whenever you come into the room. The only thing I wear is my collar, snug against my throat.

You step into the room, and seeing me kneeling there, you speak. “You may look up, slave.”

I do, and my breath intakes sharply. Standing next to you is a tall beautiful woman.

You notice my reaction. “What are you thinking, slave?”

“She’s beautiful, Master.” I can’t help but stare at her.

“Yes, she is. Come here.”

I crawl over to both of you, because I have not been given permission to stand. I kneel between you, at your feet. I continue to look at this beauty that you have chosen to bring to the room. She smiles down at me, and strokes my hair. I bend to kiss her foot.

“You will obey her as you obey me. You will call her Mistress,” you tell me.

“Yes, Master.” I see that you are pleased with me.

“Stand up now, slave.”

“Yes, Master.” I stand, feeling small next to this incredible woman. She is a good two or three inches taller than I am.

“Undress your Mistress. You may make love to her as you undress her.”

I look at you, not quite believing that you will allow me to make love to her. I immediately begin to undo the buttons on her blouse. I look at her as I do this.

“May I kiss you, Mistress,” I ask shyly.

“Yes, you may. Your Master has already given permission for you to make love to me, and I haven’t said that you may not.”

I lean in, slowly, and brush her lips with mine. She is soft and warm, and the feeling floods through me. I continue to undo the buttons, and I kiss her neck as it’s uncovered. I open her blouse and slide it off her shoulders, which I also kiss, gently. Then I undo her bra, which opens in the front, and my breath almost leaves me as I uncover her breasts. I put my lips to each nipple, unable to control myself, and I feel them harden under my touch. I reach to undo her slacks, and slide them down and off her legs. She stands, unashamed, in just her panties, which I also remove. I know you are watching everything I do, and I want to please you.

She walks to the bed, and you motion for me to follow. I do, and she lies down. I get up on the bed, but I don’t do anything else because I don’t have permission.

“Lie on top of her, slave. I’m going to whip you with my belt,” you say as you take your belt off.

I look at you, afraid that I have displeased you, and you see the uncertainty in my eyes.

“No,” you say, “You haven’t disobeyed me. You know the rules. I’m going to whip you because I can. You’re my slave, and that gives me the right to whip you for no reason other than my pleasure.”

I am reassured by this, and lie on top of my Mistress. She wraps her arms around me, and this is allowed as this isn’t a punishment spanking. I wouldn’t be allowed this comfort if it were. The first blow lands squarely on my bare, upturned bottom, and my body tenses, but I don’t cry out. The belt lands again and again in quick succession, with no real time in between to acclimate myself. My Mistress kisses my face softly, whispering to me, soft nothings that lull me even as I’m whipped hard. The heat builds to uncomfortable levels, but I know I must not show too much distress, because that isn’t fitting for a slave. I must stay in control. I bury my head in her neck, kissing it, nuzzling it. She strokes my hair as I struggle to maintain control over myself. I want both of you to be proud of me.

Finally the whipping ends, and she rubs my bottom with her lovely slow caresses. I know you are watching all of this with great interest, every detail carefully remembered.

“Slave, I want you to lick your Mistress’s pussy now. I want you to make her come. Lie down where she is now.”

I don’t understand, but I obey. My Mistress gets up from where she had been, and I lie down in the warmth she has left there. You proceed to tie me to the bed, spread eagle, so that I’m unable to move except to lift my head. The position is nothing new, but I don’t understand yet how I will make her come if I am tied up. My questions are answered as you lead her to kneel over my face. I stare up into her pussy, and reach up to kiss her inner thigh. Her pussy is bare, as mine is bare, and I brush my lips against her folds. I kiss her pussy, and then let my tongue dart out to taste her. I feel her wetness, and I know she is aroused. I start to lick her in earnest now, becoming more and more excited as I feel her hips move with my tongue thrusts. I fuck her with my tongue, lifting my head high to go as deep as I can inside her. She moans and gyrates above me, and I know you must be pleased with me. I sense your labored breathing next to the bed as you watch us. I feel her lift up slightly, and I know that you must be caressing her breasts, pinching her nipples. I find her clit and play with it until I feel her body tense. I know she’s close, so I tongue her clit very fast and hard, and she comes, screaming. I kiss her pussy and inner thighs, and then you help her down from her kneeling position.

I’m still lying tied up on the bed. I don’t mind though. I’m your slave, and what happens next isn’t up to me. I wonder, but I don’t ask. I hear my Mistress ask if she may, and I wonder what she means. She has asked you, not me. The next thing I feel is her mouth on my pussy, and I shudder at the sudden sensations. I’m being allowed to be pleasured, and I know then that I have pleased you. She kisses and licks my pussy, pushing me to new heights. I know I cannot come unless you say that I may, so I struggle not to. I can’t grind my pussy against her mouth because I can’t move enough, and I am frustrated by this.

Suddenly she stops, and I almost cry out. She starts again, pushing me close to the edge, and then she stops again. She has decided to play with me, tormenting me with her tongue, but stopping just short every time.

Finally, I hear your voice, as if from a distance. “You can come now, slave.”

She tongues my clit in earnest then, making my whole body strain desperately against my restraints. My whole body shakes with an explosive orgasm, and I lay utterly exhausted. I watch through a warm haze as you take her from behind. You standing next to the bed, she on the bed, bottom thrust high for you. I hear you groan with pent-up desire, and I wish that it was I who was receiving your cock inside me. You are my Master though, and it isn’t for me to question what you do.

You both come in a sweaty moaning shudder. After a few minutes you untie me, but only my legs; I’m still helpless. You kneel between my legs and lift my hips so that you can enter me. I thrust my hips against you, and your balls brush against my still sore bottom. It drives me over the edge, and you see that I can no longer control it.

“Come for me, my slaveslut. Come hard for your Master!”

And I do, my legs stiffening and shuddering, and I yell out my release. You come right after me, and then collapse against me. I feel my hands being untied, and I realize that it’s my Mistress. You lie on one side of me, and she on the other, and we sleep like that, wrapped around each other.

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I’m less than three weeks away from being 51 years old. My brain tells me I’m a lot younger, but in the past few years my hormones are telling me the opposite. I’m obviously on the downward slide to menopause, and my hormones are crazier than they were when I was a teenager. My cycle, which used to be like clockwork started to go haywire, and then starting in December became so crazy that it didn’t stop except for a few days, and then it would be right back. We won’t discuss the parts where I started wondering how much blood a person has in their body because “how the hell could this be happening on this level for a week and I haven’t passed out from losing all the blood in my body?”. LOL I had been on supplements off and on a couple years ago, which took care of the hot flashes I had started having. I had stopped taking them because the hot flashes went away, so I thought that my hormones had balanced back out. Well, after three months of this stupid never ending hell, I did some research online, and it said that hormonal imbalance can cause that. I still had some supplements, so I started taking them, and TA DA, I’m getting back to normal again.

One of the side effects from all that is that my sex drive and kink mindedness have been almost nonexistent. Who can be in the mood for anything fun when you’re in the middle of all that? It doesn’t happen. So now, my mind is slowly wandering back to feeling more sexual, and to wanting kinkiness again. It’s slow, too slow for my liking, but it’s only been a week since I started the supplements, so I’m hoping that maybe by my birthday I’ll be closer to kink-normal. I knew things were bad when spanking pictures that were all over my Twitter TL were doing absolutely nothing for me. It was annoying me that things that would have made me horny as hell a year ago were just taunting me with my lack of interest. In the past couple days I’ve noticed at least a mild interest in the pictures, so I know things will ramp back up, it’ll just take some time. I have managed some masturbation over the past couple months, but it’s been rare, maybe twice in that whole time. Not being married or being in a relationship, there’s been no chance of full on sex, so at least I haven’t had to worry about anybody else’s feelings or needs in all of this, it’s just MY feelings, or lack thereof that I’ve had to deal with. That’s enough, believe me. This sucks, and I’m just glad I haven’t had to worry about how anybody else is affected by all of this.

There was one ray of sunshine a month ago, in one of the extremely rare days off from the hell, I was home by myself, which also rarely happens, and I got some implements out. The riding crop, a paddle, the hairbrush and the loopy came into use, and it was so nice to get some spanking in, although my endurance wasn’t what it used to be, probably because of the lack of hormones, I’m not sure. It was nice to have a warm bottom again for a while, especially since I hadn’t been spanked since I was in NY with G back in October. It seems like that was the last time I really felt kinky anyway, since everything went to hell not long after I got back. I miss feeling kinky. I want it back. I want to be ME again. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, so I know I’ll get there, but it’s frustrating in the meantime.